Page 113 of Wicked Rivals
The hired men formed a ring around Ashton as they headed for the door. As they backed out into the sunlight, Ashton raised a hand against the glaring sun. They were alone except for a wagon of hay and two goats that meandered past them grazing lightly on the grass leading up to the road. A pleasant day…and here he was facing a grim defeat. Not only would he lose the letters, but odds were his life as well.
The leader pointed at Ashton. “Hand the letters to me.”
Ashton stared at the letters, sighed, then passed the packet to the man with a curse.
A shout from the wagon made Ashton jump. Jonathan and Charles leapt out of wagon, pistols raised.
“What were you doing?” Ashton said loudly enough so that only they could hear.
“The guards all disappeared once you went inside. We used the wagon as cover while we worked out how to get in. We were planning to gain entrance, but clearly you need us more here.”
Cedric, Lucien and Godric came around the side of the castle at a brisk pace and flanked the hired men from behind. The other men glanced around, their fingers twitching on their pistols.
“Hand the letters back,” Godric ordered.
Hugo’s man shook his head. “Never.”
“We will shoot you,” Lucien warned.
“And we outnumber you,” the man countered.
Ashton saw the determination in the other man’s eyes. He knew the man would die to get the letters away.
“Whatever he’s paying you, we’ll triple it,” Ashton said.
The man laughed. “If only it were that simple.”
“Name your price then,” Ashton offered, holding up a hand when the man took a step back.
“Not everything is about price, my lord. I have my orders.”
He fired his pistol.
Ashton staggered back. At first he felt nothing; then he saw red blossom around his left shoulder. The pain soon hit as he clutched his now limp arm.
The world descended into chaos. Pistols fired and men shouted, calling for retreat, but his or theirs he couldn’t tell. Ashton couldn’t focus on any of that as he slumped to the ground. His head grew foggy, and the agony of his arm was a distraction he couldn’t ignore.
“Ash!” Cedric’s voice cut through the battle. Most of the pistols were on the ground as the men now attacked with swords and knives. But Ashton’s mind still struggled to focus.
“Cedric?” he whispered, breathless.
Must get back inside…He struggled back up, his legs buckling before he fell again to his knees. The road rose up to meet him, hitting his knees and making him groan.Must find…
“Rosalind…” he said as the pain overtook him and blackness swallowed him whole.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sound of pistols made Rosalind jump. She clutched her skirts and ran for the door, her brothers at her heels.
“Rosalind, stay behind us!” Brock ordered, but she wasn’t listening. If Hugo’s men were shooting out there, seven against one…
“Ashton!” she cried out as she grasped the iron handle of the wooden door that led outside. Her brothers all now held their slender but lethal blades in one hand and pistols in the other.
Brodie helped her pull the door open, and a scene of wild ferocity halted her in her tracks. Ashton’s friends were fighting men left and right. The clash of blades and fists made her sick. She was a strong woman, but no one handled bloodshed well when it was with those she’d come to care about. Her brothers dove into the fray, bellowing out ancient battle cries that echoed off the castle walls. Brock grabbed a man and swung him hard toward the moat, the man shouting as he hit the water with a mighty splash.
“Ashton!” she cried, looking around. It was then she saw Cedric, holding a man on the ground. A crown of blond hair was all she could make out clearly.
No… No… No…
